It's time again for another public service announcement about making sure you back up your work. Why this morning? Because I walked into the office this morning to Hubs computer in Safe Mode. And while I was trying figure out WTF pre caffeine and nicotine, he realized that if his hard drive was toast, he'd lost a whole bunch of stuff.
Now, understand something. I am IT here at Sanderson Industries, Inc. LLC, so it's basically my job to take care of the computers. And I dropped the ball. I hadn't backed up either of the computers recently. A fact that became clear as we were talking - while I was waiting for System Restore to do its job - about what he may have lost, it occurred to me that I hadn't backed up any of the spreadsheet stuff I've been doing that I hadn't already emailed to the office. So, like 25 spreadsheets I created over the weekend had no backup. Argh. That would've sucked if a crash had happened to MY computer last night.
So, I got out the thumb drives and began backing up. (System Restore fixed Hubs computer,. btw. Whew.) And I saw that I hadn't backed up my picture files since last June. Derp.
One would think I would've learned during The Great Computer Crash of 2006, wherein I lost all my picture files in one fell swoop of the dead hard drive.
I don't lose manuscript files. I back up my books every night I've worked on them by emailing them to my gmail acct. Blurbs, cover art, etc.? That stuff would've been toast.
It's all backed up to a thumb drive now. Later today, I'll take this thumb drive to the bank and put it in our safe deposit box, retrieve the one already there and back up to that, too.
Always have one full backup with you and one offsite - in case of flood, fire, tornado, etc.
Anyway, let this be a reminder to you, too. If you haven't backed up lately, make time to do it today. If your computer crashes overnight, you'll be so glad you did. And if it doesn't? Then you can breathe a sigh of relief that you're safe for another day.
Peace out.
Showing posts with label PSA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PSA. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 11, 2018
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Wicked Wednesday - Abuse
You talked back again. You didn't wear the right dress. You looked foolish in front of his friends. You made him look foolish in front of his friends. You were too slow. You weren't slow enough. Dinner wasn't cooked enough... or too much... it was overseasoned or underseasoned... it was late... or it was on-time but he was late and now it's cold. And it's all your fault. Whatever it was that pissed him off, frustrated him, or just generally put a crimp in his day. So he hit you, knocked you down, yelled, shouted, screamed, made you feel ashamed, stupid, ugly... worthless...
And you deserved it. So you took whatever he dished out and accepted that it was your due. And you'll take it again tomorrow because he did apologize for hurting you and he promised he won't do it again. Or he didn't apologize, but you know he's sorry deep down. It wasn't him talking. He had a bad day. It was the booze or the drugs or the chemical imbalance caused by whatever. He didn't mean it. He was just playing around. He's really a nice guy. And he loves you.
Sound familiar? It's either happening to you right now, has happened to you in the past, or you know someone it's happening/happened to.
Physical abuse. Mental abuse. Emotional abuse. One of them or another, or a combination of all three.
The first time I remember hearing about it was 1987 - I was in high school and everyone knew R's boyfriend was whoopin' on her. And I knew then no man would ever be allowed to whoop on me. And they didn't. I didn't take that kind of abuse.
I had a boyfriend once who slapped me across the face... but he was kidding around. I was 18. Took me about a year - and our engagement - before I broke up with him. I ran into his next girlfriend years later. He broke her arm.
I had another boyfriend in college who was joking around with me one day, acting like he was going to hit me. I told him "If you ever hit me, it'll be the last thing you do." To which he replied, "What are you going to do about it?" A smiled slowly and said "I don't have to do a damn thing." then proceeded to name off all my really large male friends who would happily pound him into something resembling porridge. We broke up a couple weeks later.
No, I never endured the physical abuse, and I thought I was wise. I never saw the mental abuse coming except in retrospect. Sometimes, looking back, I think it would've been better if Mr. X had pounded on me. Then I would've had an excuse to leave him long before I did. Perhaps someone would've seen the bruises and stopped him, or made me see that I didn't deserve that kind of abuse. Perhaps if I'd still had my really large male friends, they would've crushed him into paste for me. Except he made sure I didn't have any friends, so I'm not sure how that would've worked. I tried to end it once, but he sucked me back with promises of counseling and therapy and love. I finally did end it 8 months later. And I learned.
Not well enough, apparently, because he wasn't the last to make me feel like shit for just being me, but eventually, I got the point. I didn't deserve that. No one does.
No one has the right to hurt you. Most especially, the people who claim to love you do NOT have the right to hurt you. Not physically, not mentally, and not emotionally.
Get out. Get away. Remove yourself from the situation, and if you can't, find someone who can help you. And if you're staying 'for the kids', think about what the abuse is doing to them. They see, they hear, they know. Your kids will grow up thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable. Your girls will allow it to happen to them, and your boys will do it to their women. Because if it was okay with Mom, it's okay.
Get out. Don't endure years of it until you're finally so fed up you're this close to either killing him or killing yourself. Don't endure it so long that when you finally get away, you spend years afterwards with a kind of PTSD - so that twenty years later, you still have occasional nightmares about it (even though you're safe and happy with a real man who knows what love is and shows it daily).
Get out. Because you deserve better. You always did.
And you deserved it. So you took whatever he dished out and accepted that it was your due. And you'll take it again tomorrow because he did apologize for hurting you and he promised he won't do it again. Or he didn't apologize, but you know he's sorry deep down. It wasn't him talking. He had a bad day. It was the booze or the drugs or the chemical imbalance caused by whatever. He didn't mean it. He was just playing around. He's really a nice guy. And he loves you.
Sound familiar? It's either happening to you right now, has happened to you in the past, or you know someone it's happening/happened to.
Physical abuse. Mental abuse. Emotional abuse. One of them or another, or a combination of all three.
The first time I remember hearing about it was 1987 - I was in high school and everyone knew R's boyfriend was whoopin' on her. And I knew then no man would ever be allowed to whoop on me. And they didn't. I didn't take that kind of abuse.
I had a boyfriend once who slapped me across the face... but he was kidding around. I was 18. Took me about a year - and our engagement - before I broke up with him. I ran into his next girlfriend years later. He broke her arm.
I had another boyfriend in college who was joking around with me one day, acting like he was going to hit me. I told him "If you ever hit me, it'll be the last thing you do." To which he replied, "What are you going to do about it?" A smiled slowly and said "I don't have to do a damn thing." then proceeded to name off all my really large male friends who would happily pound him into something resembling porridge. We broke up a couple weeks later.
No, I never endured the physical abuse, and I thought I was wise. I never saw the mental abuse coming except in retrospect. Sometimes, looking back, I think it would've been better if Mr. X had pounded on me. Then I would've had an excuse to leave him long before I did. Perhaps someone would've seen the bruises and stopped him, or made me see that I didn't deserve that kind of abuse. Perhaps if I'd still had my really large male friends, they would've crushed him into paste for me. Except he made sure I didn't have any friends, so I'm not sure how that would've worked. I tried to end it once, but he sucked me back with promises of counseling and therapy and love. I finally did end it 8 months later. And I learned.
Not well enough, apparently, because he wasn't the last to make me feel like shit for just being me, but eventually, I got the point. I didn't deserve that. No one does.
No one has the right to hurt you. Most especially, the people who claim to love you do NOT have the right to hurt you. Not physically, not mentally, and not emotionally.
Get out. Get away. Remove yourself from the situation, and if you can't, find someone who can help you. And if you're staying 'for the kids', think about what the abuse is doing to them. They see, they hear, they know. Your kids will grow up thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable. Your girls will allow it to happen to them, and your boys will do it to their women. Because if it was okay with Mom, it's okay.
Get out. Don't endure years of it until you're finally so fed up you're this close to either killing him or killing yourself. Don't endure it so long that when you finally get away, you spend years afterwards with a kind of PTSD - so that twenty years later, you still have occasional nightmares about it (even though you're safe and happy with a real man who knows what love is and shows it daily).
Get out. Because you deserve better. You always did.
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